


Playing the Hero

by AylaPascal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4533735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AylaPascal/pseuds/AylaPascal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus gets in over his head when he tries to hunt down the remaining Death Eaters. Draco ends up rescuing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing the Hero

It had all gone terribly wrong, Albus thought, as he came to. He was supposed to have captured the rogue Death Eater who had been kidnapping Muggles over in County Clare, but instead he had ended up arse-over-head after being hit by a curse. His head ached as he fought to open his eyes. Albus almost panicked as he saw that he could see nothing but white, but then he realised that he was looking up at a ceiling.   
  
And then it occurred to him to wonder why exactly he was looking up at a ceiling. Albus could feel his pulse race as he realised that he was tied to some sort of bed. Shit. Just what sort of sick twisted thing had he managed to get himself into? He tried struggling, but that just made the restraints cut deeper into his wrists and ankles. As Albus looked around the room wildly, he suddenly saw the sneering face of Walden Macnair looking down at him from the end of the bed. Double shit.   
  
"You're awake." Macnair's voice was harsh and Albus resisted the urge to visibly cringe as he saw Macnair walk over to stand next to his head.   
  
"Obviously," Albus said tartly.   
  
Macnair's upper lip curled as he ran a finger down the side of Albus's face. Albus shivered as he could see a gleam in his eyes. "You're Harry Potter's boy," he said.   
  
Albus squared his chin and stared up at Macnair. "I am," he said. He struggled against the restraints, but they just tightened around his wrists. "Care to untie me?"   
  
Macnair laughed. "A good sense of humour. You'll need that."   
  
Albus's heart pounded as he could see Macnair twirling his wand slowly in his hand. Ever since he was young, he had heard stories about what happened to hapless witches and wizards who had encountered Death Eaters. The height of their atrocities happened during the war, but even over the last few years, there had been a couple of isolated disappearances. Death Eaters didn't dare to come after Muggle-borns any more, but Muggles were easy prey. "What are you doing to do?" he asked, glad that his voice was steady.   
  
"I'm going to show you exactly what happens to those who pry into the affairs of their betters," Macnair drawled. "You should have stayed as an Auror."   
  
"And you should have stayed in Azkaban," Albus countered. He was surprised that Macnair knew about his brief stint as an Auror. His dad had been disappointed when Albus had dropped out of the program, but Albus knew he couldn't live up to his dad's reputation. Before his dad had started teaching at Hogwarts, he had been one of the best Aurors of his time. Everything Albus did was compared against his dad, and Albus always came up short.   
  
"Such bravado," Macnair mocked. "Just like your father."   
  
Albus narrowed his eyes. "My father has nothing to do with this."   
  
Macnair leered. "Touchy point, I see," he murmured as he brushed a lock of Albus's hair away from his face using his wand. Albus flinched as Macnair leaned closer and ran a sharp fingernail down his face. "Delicate skin," he said. "I'll enjoy breaking it _and_ breaking you."   
  
"You'll do no such thing," Albus snapped as he yanked at the restraints. They simply wound even tighter around his wrists.   
  
"I wouldn't do that," Macnair remarked. "They're designed to break your arms if you struggle hard enough. And you wouldn't want that." His eyes gleamed. "I wouldn't want that either. After all, how else would I be able to play with my new toy?"   
  
Albus shuddered. He'd heard of what happened to victims of Macnair during the last war and it wasn't pretty. Some of them had been left bleeding and broken outside of the Ministry during the last few days of the war and that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was the fact that the victims fought any help that the mediwizards and mediwitches at St Mungo's tried to give. They claimed that Macnair would miss them and that they needed to get back. Most of them had recovered after an extensive program of therapy; however, Albus had visited a few who were still locked up in St Mungo's during his brief stint as an Auror.   
  
Macnair flicked his wand. Albus found the buttons of his robes slide open and they fell apart. Suddenly, Albus was very glad that he tended to wear Muggle clothes underneath his robes. "Just more layers for me to remove," Macnair said. "In case you were thinking of screaming, this room is sound-proofed. But you're still welcome to try."   
  
Albus pressed his lips together. He had already guessed that there would have been a sound-proofing charm on the room; otherwise, he would have been yelling his head off as soon as he came to. Macnair wouldn't have been so stupid as to leave him able to talk without taking precautions. "You're sick."   
  
"Perhaps," Macnair said with a smirk as he reached over and caressed Albus's crotch. "Don't worry so much, young Potter. My tastes run more towards women. Of course, it doesn't mean that your body doesn't hold a treasure trove of other amusements for me."   
  
Albus gulped. That didn't help ease his fear. "Oh," he managed to get out, "so it's just your everyday torture then."   
  
Macnair gave him a brittle smile. "Got it in one. Now, don't leave while I go to fetch my instruments."   
  
Albus watched with a sinking heart as Macnair turned around and walked away. He pulled against the restraints but they simply curled tighter around his wrists. Fuck. There was nothing he could do to get out of here. "Help!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Possible sound-proofing charms be damned if he wasn't going to do everything he could to get himself out of here away from that sadistic bastard. "Somebody! Anybody!"   
  
-^-   
  
Albus swallowed a scream as he saw Macnair take out a small dagger. Its tip glinted in the dim light and there was a feral grin on Macnair's face. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Macnair told him. "Back when I was the Ministry Executioner, I had to use an axe, but I've always liked knives better. They're far more delicate, aren't they?"   
  
"You're more screwed up than that Lestrange woman," Albus spat. He'd heard about Bellatrix Lestrange from his parents. Apparently, out of all of the Death Eaters, she had been particularly sadistic. Now that he was looking up at the glint in Macnair's eyes, Albus couldn't help but think that Bellatrix would have had nothing on Macnair.   
  
To his surprise, Macnair gave a small bow. "I'm flattered, young Potter."   
  
Albus shuddered as he watched Macnair running his thumb along the blade of his dagger. "Why're you doing this?"   
  
Macnair smiled. "No particular reason," he said. "It's not for information, if that's what you're thinking. It doesn't matter how much you tell me or how much you betray your friends, I'm just going to keep on continuing. But I've found that this doesn't usually stop my subjects from spilling their deepest darkest secrets."   
  
"I'm not telling you anything!" Albus could almost hear his heart pounding in his ears.   
  
"And I don't need you to," Macnair told him. "All I need is for you to bleed for me. And I'm sure you could do that."   
  
Albus's skin broke out in a cold sweat as he saw Macnair's dagger come closer to his bare skin. "Oh, I don't know about that," he managed to get out. "What if I don't bleed?"   
  
Macnair's eyes gleamed. "Then you'll be the first one. Don't worry, young Potter. I'll start easy on you."   
  
Albus swallowed as he saw the blade coming closer. Macnair seemed to be almost salivating as the blade drew close to his chest. The hairs on his chest almost seemed to vibrate as Albus could feel the coldness of the blade pressed against his skin.   
  
"If I pressed down even just a little bit, I could slice you open," Macnair remarked. "This blade is reinforced with magic."   
  
"Oh good," Albus gasped. He dug his fingernails into his slippery palms as he focused on the blade. His pulse hammered and he suddenly felt the urge to void his bladder. Macnair's wrist twitched slightly and the blade moved against his skin. Albus winced as he saw bright red droplets of blood slide off the shining steel. The pain wasn't much but it was the anticipation that was getting to him. That and the fact the look in Macnair's eyes told him that the worst was yet to come.   
  
"Isn't it beautiful?" Macnair commented.   
  
"No," Albus said, his voice sounding strangled.   
  
Macnair's eyes flashed and he looked displeased. "For that, I'm not going to start off gentle," he said.   
  
Albus's stomach churned as he felt the stinging pain of the knife being drawn across his chest. He screwed his eyes shut. He didn't want to see what Macnair was doing to his chest, but that didn't stop the fact he could still feel the blood running down into the sheets and the fact that Macnair seemed to be drawing some sort of perverse pattern into his skin.   
  
"So lovely," Macnair breathed.   
  
Albus shuddered as he felt Macnair's finger press down on one of the cuts. He was probably going to lick the blood off his finger or something equally disgusting. "Why don't you just kill me?" he demanded.   
  
"Well, what would be the fun in that?"   
  
The blade seemed to be digging deeper into his skin and Albus wasn't sure whether it was the situation or the loss of blood, but he was beginning to feel woozy. When he opened his eyes, the world seemed to be spinning around him and the metallic smell was making him feel nauseated. Albus swallowed as he struggled not to throw up. Knowing Macnair, he would probably enjoy it if Albus threw up.   
  
"I've found that the human body can lose quite a lot of blood," Macnair told him. "Especially witches and wizards. Your magic will keep you alive for a very long time."   
  
"Oh good," Albus gasped.   
  
"It is good," Macnair told him, his eyes glittering. "It means that I can have weeks of fun instead of days. And believe me, I'm going to have _fun_."   
  
"You're going to leave me tied to this bed for weeks?" Albus demanded, trying to sound strong. He still couldn't look down at his chest; he didn't want to see Macnair's handiwork.   
  
Macnair looked surprised. "Of course not. I'll untie you after I'm finished today. You will have access to both food and water for as long as you survive."   
  
Albus frowned. He couldn't help but think that Macnair wasn't all there. There was something distinctly insane about the other man. He wasn't just a former Death Eater; he was a former Death Eater who didn't have all of his mental faculties. "Good," he managed to get out finally. He had no idea why Macnair wanted to untie him but he wasn't going to question the decision.   
  
"I do want you to live as long as possible," Macnair told him. "I find that ... having my toys free-range works better." He stepped backwards and seemed to survey his handiwork. "Beautiful. Simply beautiful."   
  
Despite himself, Albus found his gaze drawn downwards. As he focused on the criss-crossing of cuts across his chest and the blood still trickling out of the wounds, he could feel his head spin. The world seemed to be closing in on him with blotches of black coming in from the sides. Mercifully, Albus fainted.   
  
-^-   
  
When Albus came to, the first thing he noticed was that Macnair was gone. The second thing he noticed was that he had been untied and was now on the floor. From the aching down one side, he figured that he had probably rolled off the bed. Plus, several of his wounds seemed to be bleeding freely. The one in his shoulder seemed to be especially deep and it had seeped down to stain the flagstone floor. "Good," Albus muttered as he pushed himself up, stifling a groan at the shooting pain through his shoulder.   
  
Reaching over, Albus grabbed the edge of his robes that were on the floor and pulled them over. He winced as he pressed the robes against his bleeding shoulder. Most of his other wounds seemed shallow so he hoped they could heal of their own accord. Macnair hadn't even seemed to see fit to give him anything to put on them or even water to wash them out. They were probably going to get infected, Albus thought morosely. Of course, that was the least of his worries at the moment.   
  
He couldn't even remember how he had got the shoulder wound. The last he remembered, Macnair was drawing the blade of the dagger lightly over his chest, creating thin cuts that barely bled but that stung like fuck. He couldn't figure out why Macnair was doing it. It wasn't as though Macnair was torturing him for information or even for sexual pleasure. Macnair just seemed to be doing it randomly, for fun. Slowly, Albus lifted the fabric of the robes away from his shoulder and examined the wound. It was still seeping. With a sigh, he pressed the robes on his shoulder again. It seemed like he would have to continue doing this for a while if he wanted to stop the blood.   
  
Somebody had better come soon, Albus thought grimly. There was an insane look in Macnair's eyes that told him he couldn't survive another one of these encounters.   
  
-^-   
  
Albus took a deep breath as he heard the door open again. His wounds had only stopped bleeding about an hour ago and he was still feeling wobbly from the lack of blood. He didn't think he had the energy to walk out of the room, let alone tackle Macnair, overcome him, and then run away before getting caught. "Come to finish me off?" he called out as he saw Macnair walk into the room.   
  
"Hardly."   
  
Albus's mouth dropped open as he saw somebody following Macnair into the room, a wand pointed at Macnair's back. "What the hell?" He squinted. He thought he recognised the person. "Draco Malfoy?"   
  
"Correct," Draco drawled. "Your one person rescue party." He prodded Macnair in the back and smirked as Macnair stumbled slightly. "I heard that you were poking around in the affairs of Death Eaters and thought I'd come by and see what my old friend was up to."   
  
"Oh," Albus said. He wasn't sure what else to say.   
  
"Don't I even get a 'thank you'?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. "I could have just left you to Walden's tender mercies."   
  
There was something strange about the way Macnair was standing. It almost didn't seem as though Macnair was scared of Draco. Plus, Draco called him by his first name. "You were a Death Eater before," Albus accused.   
  
"A youthful folly," Draco said coldly. "I'm sure you won't hold it against me. Your father didn't."   
  
Albus was beginning to remember some of the stories his dad had told him about Draco Malfoy. Apparently Draco had been an arrogant brat when they had been at Hogwarts together, but his dad said that Draco had cleaned up his act after they had left Hogwarts. "So what are you doing to do with him?" Albus asked as he stood up slowly.   
  
"If you think that I'm going to kill him, you'll be sorely disappointed," Draco said, without missing a beat. "I'm going to turn him over to the Ministry. However, first, we need to get those wounds of yours looked at. You're bleeding all over the place."   
  
Albus looked down and suddenly realised his shoulder wound had started seeping again. "Crap," he muttered as he grabbed his blood-sodden robes and pressed them against his shoulder once more.   
  
"Leave them," Draco told him, wrinkling his nose. "I'll take you to my place. We can clean you up there so those cuts don't get infected." He waved his arm as Albus opened his mouth. "Don't thank me. I should have got here earlier. I was following you yesterday but I lost track of you when you ducked across the road."   
  
Albus blinked rapidly. He'd thought he had been rather discreet. His legs wobbled slightly as he walked over to where Draco was standing. "I hope you enjoy Azkaban," he spat at Macnair.   
  
Macnair's face was like a mask as he turned his head. "I'm disappointed I didn't have more time with you."   
  
"You bastard," Albus snapped and would have said more if Draco didn't flick his wand towards Macnair who immediately slumped down to the ground. "What'd you do?"   
  
"He'll be incapacitated for the next few hours," Draco told him. "Come along."   
  
Albus took a step forward and then stopped. The world seemed to be rushing around him and there was a roaring sound in his ears. "I don't... I don't think I can." He stumbled backwards and sat back down on the bed.   
  
Draco sighed. He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a bottle. "Here, drink this," he said, handing the bottle over.   
  
Albus turned the bottle over in his fingers. "What is it?"   
  
"Stop asking questions," Draco said, sounding irritable. "Just drink it."   
  
Slowly, Albus opened the bottle and downed its bitter contents. Almost immediately, he felt drowsy. "W-what's in this?" he managed to get out, his words slurred. "Did you drug me?"   
  
"It'll help you recover," Draco said, his voice sounding like it was coming from far away. "It's going to help you sleep. I'll Apparate you back to my place."   
  
As Albus's eyes slid closed, he felt Draco's arms slide underneath his shoulders. There was a sharp cracking sound and then Draco seemed to half-drag half-carry him onto a bed. "W-what?" Albus mumbled as his head sank down into a soft, cool pillow.   
  
"Sleep, Potter," Draco told him. "Just sleep."   
  
-^-   
  
"I don't need to be here," Albus protested as he tried to get out of bed. He'd woken up a few minutes ago to find himself in a strange bedroom. Draco had come in a few seconds later and informed him that he was no longer in Macnair's hands. Instead, this was Draco's house. When Albus looked down, he noticed that his wounds seemed to have been expertly bandaged. His head spun as he sat up, but he pushed through the pain. His stomach was queasy but Albus ignored it. "I'm sure people are wondering where I am."   
  
"Lie back down," Draco ordered. "I told you that I've already informed your parents as to your whereabouts."   
  
There was something about what Draco was saying that didn't make sense to Albus, but he couldn't seem to concentrate through the haze. It was strange. He should have been getting better from the potions and bed rest, but somehow, he felt worse than he had when Macnair was torturing him. He wasn't in pain any more, but his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool. A sudden thought occurred to him. "Then why aren't they here?"   
  
Draco raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"   
  
"My parents," Albus clarified. "Shouldn't they be here?"   
  
"They will be soon," Draco said. "Now you've been through a lot. Rest."   
  
Reluctantly, Albus lifted his legs and swung them back into bed. He pulled the blankets back up and settled back onto the pillows. The coolness of the pillow made his aching head feel slightly better.   
  
"Before you fall asleep, you need to drink that potion," Draco reminded him as he pointed towards the bedside table.   
  
Albus sighed and propped himself up. He closed his eyes and downed the contents of the potion. Wrinkling his nose, he swallowed the bitter liquid. "You'd think it would taste better," he remarked. He had thought this last night when Draco had given him his first dose, but he hadn't mentioned it. "I mean, most of the painkilling potions I've had taste bad, but this is far worse."   
  
"It's a new recipe," Draco told him as he walked towards the door. "Of my own creation."   
  
Albus struggled to open his eyes. The potion seemed to make him drowsy and sluggish. He supposed that it was some sort of method of getting him to sleep so that his body could recover. "I didn't know you made potions," he said. In fact, Albus wasn't sure he knew what Draco did. He'd heard from his dad that Draco had got divorced from his wife after his son had died in a tragic accident. Apparently, Draco had never got over his son's death and ended up quitting his job and moving into the countryside.   
  
"Relax, Potter, before you give yourself an aneurysm," Draco said rolling his eyes. "I have mediwizard training, and I'm telling you that you've been through a lot and you need to sleep. So sleep." He stepped outside the room and shut the door behind him.   
  
"I didn't know you had that training either," Albus mumbled into his pillow as he felt his eyelids closing again. The room seemed to wobble around him as he pillowed his face in his hands and tried to find a comfortable position on the bed. There was something odd about this entire situation, but he couldn't seem to place it. Albus knew he'd have more luck if his mind didn't feel so fuzzy and if every muscle in his body didn't ache, but that didn't seem to be happening. He knew Draco was trying to help him, but Albus wished he'd stop trying.   
  
Albus turned over in bed and felt himself drifting off to sleep.   
  
-^-   
  
Albus blinked blearily and almost jumped out of his skin as he saw Draco sitting there next to his bed. Had Draco been watching him sleep? That was incredibly creepy. "What the hell?" he spluttered. "How long have you been there for?"   
  
"Not long," Draco told him. He held out a steaming bowl. "I brought you some soup."   
  
Albus sniffed as sat up slowly, wincing at the continued soreness in his muscles. It smelled acidic, like tomato soup. He considered telling Draco that he hated tomato soup but decided against it. "Thanks," he said cautiously. "Why are you doing this?"   
  
Draco ignored his question as he handed a spoon over. "Drink this," he said. "I want you back on solids in a few days once your stomach can handle it."   
  
"About time," Albus grumbled. He wrinkled his nose as he took a sip of the soup. It almost burned his tongue as he swallowed. "Don't suppose I could have chicken soup next time."   
  
"This is better for you," Draco told him.   
  
Albus frowned. How on earth was tomato soup better for him than chicken soup? He took another mouthful. "What's in this anyway?" he asked. It tasted heavily spiced and nothing like the more creamy tomato soup his mum used to make.   
  
"Just drink it," Draco said sharply. It was obvious that he was rapidly losing patience. He reached into his pocket and drew out another small unlabelled bottle. "And here's another dose of the potion."   
  
"I don't think it's helping," Albus pointed out. He didn't really know much about medicinal potions; he had never really concentrated much in that class. But he seemed to remember that the potions he had while at Hogwarts seemed to work much faster than this. "I still feel like crap. In fact, I think I felt better under the hands of Macnair." His skin still crawled as he remembered what Macnair had done.   
  
"It's relative," Draco said. "You're in comfort here so you feel worse but you're recovering quite well. I've been monitoring your life signs and they're rapidly improving."   
  
"But shouldn't I be at St Mungo's?" Albus asked. His head hurt as he tried to concentrate on the conversation. "I mean, I'm grateful for all of this, but couldn't they do more for me?"   
  
"Stop asking questions," Draco told him. There a sharp note in his voice that made Albus frown. It didn't sound right; there was something wrong about this.   
  
"But," Albus said as he put the bowl of soup on the bedside table, "this just doesn't feel right."   
  
Draco snorted. "I rescued you from Walden and you're complaining? You're just as ungrateful as your father."   
  
"Of course I'm grateful," Albus said. "But it almost feels like I'm a prisoner here." He was surprised when Draco seemed to flinch imperceptibly. Albus could feel his stomach churning and he suspected it wasn't just because of the soup. "I'm not a prisoner, am I?"   
  
"As I said, you're being ungrateful," Draco told him. He stood up and walked to the door. "Don't forget your potion."   
  
Albus watched as the door closed behind him. He stared at the potion Draco had left on the bedside table. The way Draco had reacted to his question made Albus nervous. His hands were slippery as he picked up the potion bottle and squinted at it. Why hadn't he asked more questions before Draco had given him the first dose? For all he knew, Draco was poisoning him. After all, what did he know about Draco Malfoy anyway? He was a former Death Eater who had been a productive member of society for the last thirty years. But other than that, Albus didn't know him at all.   
  
Slowly, Albus sank back into the pillows and massaged his temples. His head was still pounding despite the fact he had spent the better part of the last day or so in bed. But more importantly, he still couldn't think clearly and it probably had something to do with the potions that Draco had been giving him. They might be simple painkillers or they might be something far worse. Draco might have rescued him from Macnair but it didn't mean that he was the good guy.   
  
Biting his lower lip, Albus opened the potions bottle, reached over and quickly poured the contents into the remnants of his bowl of soup. He didn't know what the potion was, but it seemed to be messing with his mind. Maybe if he didn't drink it then everything would be clearer. Maybe then he would be able to figure out what was going on.   
  
-^-   
  
Albus was surprised when he didn't fall asleep that afternoon. As he moved his head from side to side, he realised that his mind was clearer and even the headache seemed to have eased up slightly. It seemed to confirm his worst fears. Draco was drugging him. But he couldn't seem to figure out why. After all, Draco had rescued him from Macnair. Why do that if Draco was just going to drug him? Albus frowned as a sudden thought struck him. Now that his mind was clearer, he suddenly realised that the rescue had been remarkably easy. He didn't remember much about it, but he did remember Macnair crumpling to the floor as Draco fired a stunner. Then the next thing he remembered was waking up here.   
  
"Shit," Albus muttered as he struggled to sit up. His body still seemed to be fighting his every move, but he forced himself to swing his legs out of bed. He needed to get out of here. That much was obvious to him.   
  
His legs wobbled as he stood up and for the first time, Albus looked around the room. He had known that he was in a bedroom, but he had never looked around properly. Now that he did, Albus realised that the windows seemed to be physically locked and they were probably magically locked as well. He walked over to the door and tested the doorknob. It was locked as well. Obviously, Draco had taken precautions.   
  
There was no way he could attack Draco, Albus realised. He was still far too weak. Plus, he didn't have his wand. As Albus looked around the room, he realised that his best bet was probably to get back into bed. That way when Draco came back into the room, he could pretend to be asleep. He was about to walk back over to the bed when he heard the door opening behind him. Albus turned around and saw Draco standing there with his arms folded across his chest. There was a cold gleam in his eyes.   
  
"I take it you've figured it out," Draco told him.   
  
"It wasn't difficult," Albus shot back. His gaze flickered down to where Draco was fingering his wand. "Why are you doing this?"   
  
Draco's eyes narrowed. "I rescued you from Macnair."   
  
"I know that," Albus snapped. With every passing moment, his mind was becoming clearer. "So why did you do that if you just intended on keeping me drugged? Is this some sort of Death Eater competition?"   
  
Draco laughed. "Is that what you think it is?"   
  
"Then what is it?" Albus demanded.   
  
Draco shrugged. "Perhaps it just amused me to have Harry Potter's son as a prisoner in my house."   
  
"You don't look particularly amused," Albus pointed out. It was true. Draco looked tense, almost as though he was fighting an internal battle. "You were a law-abiding citizen for more than twenty years. Why do this now?"   
  
"Maybe I just never got caught," Draco pointed out with a smirk.   
  
Albus ground his teeth as he resisted the urge to walk over to the bed and sit down. It looked rather inviting in its soft fluffiness and he was still exhausted. "Let me go," he said flatly.   
  
"No."   
  
"What do you want then?" Albus snapped. "My dad can get it for you." As much as he hated to use that, he knew it was true. His dad could probably get absolutely anything just by asking for it. Those were the perks of being Harry Potter, a hero of the wizarding world. Albus knew he could never live up to it.   
  
Draco's upper lip curled. "I'm sure he can."   
  
Albus detected a distinct note of sourness in Draco's tone, and he suddenly remembered his dad mentioning how Draco Malfoy had always hated how successful his dad was and how he had never seemed to be able to beat Harry Potter. He couldn't help a wry smile from twisting his lips. It was funny how that was the one point he had in common with his jailer. "So?" he asked. "What do you want?"   
  
"Nothing," Draco said simply.   
  
Albus stared. He supposed that answer was better than Draco wanting the death of everybody in the wizarding world, but only marginally. How was he supposed to bargain with somebody who wanted nothing? That was impossible. "Then why am I here?"   
  
"I told you," Draco said. "It amused me." There was a glitter of something in his eyes for a second before it was gone.   
  
"That's a ridiculous reason," Albus said before he could stop himself. To his surprise, Draco didn't seem annoyed at the comment.   
  
"Perhaps," Draco said.   
  
"So you're not going to let me go," Albus said. It wasn't a question; he already knew the answer. "Now what? I'm not going to drink that potion of yours again. I'm not going to let you keep me drugged."   
  
"Very well," Draco said as he turned around. Albus considered tackling him but then decided against it. He was still feeling weak and Draco had a wand. There was absolutely no way he could win. Plus, right now, Draco didn't seem inclined to do anything but leave him here in this room to sleep. Albus could handle that for a few days until he recovered and thought of a way to escape. He watched as Draco left the room before walking back over to the bed and collapsing down onto it.   
  
-^-   
  
Albus stared at the small tray of food Draco had deposited on his bedside table. "Why are you doing this?" he burst out. "Just tell me what you want and I'll get it for you? Do you want to free somebody in Azkaban? Do you want money?"   
  
Draco laughed as he turned around from the door. "No and no," he said. "I have plenty of money."   
  
"Then why?" Albus spluttered.   
  
"Perhaps," Draco said as he took a step forward, his eyes glittering. "Perhaps I wanted to keep you here, not for money, not for other Death Eaters, but for my own sake. Perhaps I just wanted _you_."   
  
Albus gulped as he saw the all-too-familiar look in Draco's eyes. It was all starting to make some sort of twisted sense now. "You wanted _me_?" he repeated. "Why?"   
  
Draco smirked. "Why do you think?"   
  
"You're not going to get me to fall in love with you," Albus said quietly. "You're not going to get anything like that out of me."   
  
Draco raised an eyebrow. "What made you think that's what I want? I won't deny that your body has a certain appeal, but _love_ has nothing to do with it." He spat it out like it was a dirty word.   
  
Albus frowned. That didn't make sense to him. If all Draco had wanted was to fuck him, then surely he could have got that some other way? Draco didn't need to bandage his wounds or set him up in this comfortable room or bring him food. It all felt suspiciously like some sort of screwed-up seduction to him. "Then why all this?" he asked, waving his arm around.   
  
Draco shrugged. "Unlike Walden, I don't like my toys bleeding and broken. I want you to be comfortable here."   
  
"Comfortable?" Albus repeated incredulously.   
  
"As comfortable as possible," Draco amended. "Otherwise, I can always give you back to Walden. He was very much disappointed at the idea of losing his toy."   
  
Albus could feel his skin crawl. "So that's how it is then," he said. "I ... have sex with you, or you give me back to that sadistic fuck Macnair?"   
  
"I wouldn't have put it so crudely," Draco drawled, "but yes, that is the basic idea. Don't worry, I don't believe in hurting my toys. You'll enjoy it, I promise." Draco smirked. "I'll give you a few hours to decide. Meanwhile, don't forget to eat your food. It's getting cold."   
  
-^-   
  
Albus paced around the room. He couldn't do this, could he? He couldn't make this kind of deal with the devil purely to get away from a worse fate. But then again, deep down, Albus knew that he could. He pressed his hand to his shoulder again and winced. The cream that Draco had put on it was wearing off and it was beginning to throb again. He had taken a peek underneath the bandage a few times and the wound seemed to be healing cleanly enough though.   
  
Could he do it? Albus gulped as he thought about what Draco wanted to do to him. This might have been easier if he was attracted to men, but then again, Albus suspected it probably wouldn't have been. His dad had been through horrible situations during his teenage years, but nothing quite as bad as this.   
  
It was that thought that gave Albus the strength to make up his mind. He could survive this. He _had_ to survive this. He was Harry Potter's son and he was going to make the best of a terrible situation in order to live through it and put the bad guys away. Then again, he couldn't help but wonder why Draco was doing this. There had to be some sort of a logical reason behind it. After all, Draco himself was a father... Albus bit his lip. Scorpius was dead. Perhaps that had something to do with it?   
  
Albus jumped as he saw the door open. Draco walked in carrying a bundle of bandages and a jar of cream. "Is this all some sort of retribution for your son's death?" Albus demanded before Draco could say anything.   
  
Draco's face was a frozen mask. "Shut up," he hissed.   
  
Obviously he'd pinched a nerve. "It wasn't the Ministry's fault," Albus said, careful to keep his voice even. "There was nothing anybody could do."   
  
"Yes, there was," Draco snapped. "They pulled back and just _left him to die_."   
  
Albus took a deep breath. He had briefly known Scorpius back when he was an Auror and from what he had known, Scorpius had worked within Ministry Intelligence. "He chose the job. He knew the risks."   
  
"He trusted the Ministry." Draco's eyes flashed. "They betrayed him. People like you. Bureaucrats like you destroyed my son."   
  
Albus pressed his lips tightly together. "There was nothing anybody could do."   
  
Draco turned his head slowly and Albus almost winced at the look of pain in his eyes. "You're trying to distract me," he said coldly. "Have you come to a decision?"   
  
Albus wiped his sweating palms on his robes. "You don't have to do this."   
  
"You're still trying to stall," Draco told him. "You're not going to change my mind. There is no redemption here, young Potter."   
  
The phrasing was oddly familiar to what Macnair used and suddenly, Albus wondered how much of a hand Draco'd had in this entire affair. Perhaps Macnair was just a dupe? Perhaps this was all some sort of twisted plan to capture him? "I can help you," Albus tried again.   
  
Draco sneered. "And I can give you back to Walden."   
  
Albus slowly opened his mouth and then shut it again. He couldn't believe he was in this situation. He couldn't believe he was forced to do this, to make this choice. The words seemed to be stuck at the back of his throat. "I-I'll do it," he managed to finally get out.   
  
Draco smirked. "I knew you would," he said, holding out the bandages in his hands. "Now those wounds need to be redressed. I can either do this or you can do it yourself. And don't look so surprised. I said that I look after my toys."   
  
Albus narrowed his eyes. He didn't want to know about Draco's other toys. Briefly he wondered if they too were Harry Potter lookalikes. He remembered seeing Draco in Diagon Alley once with a young, slender black-haired man. At the time, Albus hadn't thought anything about it, but now he wondered whether the man had been some sort of escort. He didn't know what kind of game Draco was playing, but it was undoubtedly a game. It didn't make sense that on one hand, Draco would make that kind of deal with him and on the other hand would bandage his wounds. "I'm doing it myself."   
  
"Very well," Draco said as he put the bundle onto the bed. He then walked back towards the door and stood there. "I'll be back later tonight. And I know you're thinking of escape. Don't bother. Even if you did manage to overpower me, you'd never get out of this house." He closed the door behind him.   
  
Albus could feel his heart sinking, but he squared his chin anyway. He wasn't going to let Draco's words get him down. After all, that was probably their purpose. There had to be a way out of here. After all, his dad had always found a way out of impossible situations and everybody had always told him that he was very much his father's son. If his dad could do it, then so could he. He might have to endure some horrors along the way, but he'd survive.   
  
Albus pressed his lips tightly together. Then, after he got out, he could prove to the world that he was as much of a hero as his dad. Then his dad would be as proud of him as he was of James and Lily.   
  
-^-   
  
As Albus's lips enclosed around Draco's cock, Draco's fingers tightened around his shoulder. His nails digging down as Albus swirled his tongue around the tip of his cock. "Good," Draco murmured as he brushed a stray hair away from Albus's face. "I'll be sure to repay this favour later."   
  
Albus shuddered as he felt Draco's foot nudge his own flaccid cock. He was not going to fall into Draco Malfoy's honey trap. He wasn't going to let Draco win. He was going to get away, call the Aurors, and then he was going to get both Draco Malfoy and Walden Macnair arrested and thrown into Azkaban.   
  
He was going to escape. He was going to get out of here. Whatever it took. He would prove himself, to his dad and to the entire world. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for nextgendarkfest for prompt 32 by melusinahp. Please heed the warnings. Thank you so much to aigooism for the beta!


End file.
